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I try to write of joy and of ease. I try to think, and to think thoughts worthy of my thinking, and to think with ease and wellness.
The fact of the matter is this:
I try desperately, and effortlessly, and longingly, but no matter. All I know to do is to fall back onto what I do know—to think and to write that of which I do know, which is: Nothing.
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(July 7th, 2024.)
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection.
PoesíaEvery poem that I have ever written in my designated poetry journal since the day I was eleven years old. Read at your own risk. 😎
